Downgrades
by sandyfin
Summary: A quick glimpse of how Eddie is dealing with the partner swap punishment from 7x19—because when you are one half of the best partnership in the precinct, downgrades are no fun.


"Would you turn that damn thing off?"

Eddie raised her eyebrows at her partner.

"Or put it on silent, at least?" he continued.

"So you could text all of tour yesterday while I was driving, but I can't use my phone while we're on _meal_?" Eddie replied.

"I was helping my girlfriend figure out how to book a hotel for her trip to DC next month," Welch griped. "Soon as that was done I put it away."

"Did not," Eddie scoffed. Her eyes flitted back to her phone screen as it vibrated again. "And anyway, what if I'm texting _my_ boyfriend?"

"Thought you didn't have one," Welch said accusingly.

"You don't know that," Eddie shot back.

Welch made a face and went back to picking at the bun of his veggie burger. It had been his idea that they alternate driving every tour and let the passenger choose their meal that day. For her first choice, Eddie had tried to be considerate of Welch's vegetarian diet in the name of making the best of this shitty partner switch. She'd only grown to dislike him more over the last week, though, so her restaurant selections had started to reflect that—hence the burger place today. And Welch hadn't figured out yet that his irritated reactions only spurred her on.

In the silence Eddie finished the last of her burger and then absently poked a knife at the tomato slices left on her plate as she scrolled through her phone. All four recent texts were from Jamie, who was complaining about having to go over his new partner's paperwork and make corrections. She smirked as she texted him back, darkly satisfied that this whole thing wasn't sunshine and roses for him either. She'd be lying if she said it didn't grate at her to hear about how Patimkin's mistake turned into an invitation to join a drug raid the other day, so she was glad to know Jamie still preferred her partnership over the rookie.

 _So after this you better not complain about MY paperwork ever again_ , she sent. In a separate text she added, _For what it's worth, I'd take your shit about my diet any day over Welch's whole vegetarian deal. SO annoying._

His reply came a moment later: _Then let's hit happy hour after tour and I'll make up for lost time in the shit about your diet department_

"You _do_ have a boyfriend," Welch mused, squinting at her across the table.

"Hmm?"

"Your face. You do have a boyfriend, don't you?"

Eddie managed to twist the goofy grin off her face and replace it with an irritated sneer. "None of your business."

Welch smirked. "How much do you pay him to put up with you? Is it a weekly arrangement? Monthly?"

"Don't pay him," Eddie responded. "Just buy him all-you-can-eat ribs every few weeks, and that keeps him happy."

"Yeah, _definitely_ seems like a losing deal for him."

Eddie rolled her eyes, choosing not to dignify his comment about her fake boyfriend with any other response, and looked back to her phone. _Sure_ , she sent. _Just try not to take five years in the locker room first ok?_

OOOOO

"I _told_ you not to screw around in there," Eddie said, though the smirk playing at her lips gave away that she wasn't actually angry.

"Come on, I just finished processing a collar _twelve_ minutes ago. That's pretty fast for me." He winged an elbow out to tap against hers as she fell into step beside him.

"You time yourself getting dressed?"

"No—but I know what time it was when I went in the locker room," he defended, reaching around to open the door for her.

"You're a dork, Reagan."

"Don't act like you don't miss riding with me."

"I do, I told you I do. You've got it worse than I do, though. Going from _me_ to an IA mole? That's about the biggest downgrade in the history of the NYPD."

"It is, huh? What about you? I'm God's gift to the NYPD, after all, and Welch—Welch is a _vegetarian_. Figure in your eyes that's as bad as being a low-level perp, like a shoplifter or something."

"The second part of that is true. But the first part? Head's getting a little big, there, sport, don't you think? I mean, I'm about ten steps above Patimkin but you—you're _maybe_ six above Welsh. Seven, on a really good day."

"Ohh," Jamie groaned. His hand landed on his stomach like her words caused him physical pain. "And here I was going to treat tonight to make up for your rough week. Apparently it should be the other way around."

"Fine," Eddie accepted. "I'll treat. Not like your two beers and half dozen wings will break the bank."

"Nah, you know, I'm pretty hungry actually. Patimkin is the soup and salad type. No fries for me to steal at lunch."

"Oh, so a _dozen_ wings? Uh-oh, I better make sure I've got enough on my card."

"Shut up," Jamie scoffed, but he grinned at her as they started down the sidewalk.

"Is it true you've been making Patimkin run through the entire car checklist before every tour?" Eddie asked.

"Who told you that?"

"It's around," she said vaguely.

"Hey, a good TO has to teach the right procedures."

"You never made me do any of that," Eddie pointed out.

"You're lucky I didn't. Bet you wouldn't even remember how to check the oil in a car."

"Please. I could change a tire in half the time it'd take you."

"No way."

"I could! Learned in high school, before I got my license. You're not the only one who likes cars, Reagan."

"Uh-huh," he said skeptically.

Eddie steered the conversation back in the direction of Jamie's new partner, wanting to fish for more information about her. According to Welch, Patimkin wasn't too bad for a rookie, her IA connection notwithstanding. Eddie needed to make sure Jamie wouldn't start to prefer her by the time this switch was over. "Anyway—how'd she do on the drug raid?"

Jamie shrugged. "She was okay. She hadn't been a part of anything like that before and I think she was a little caught off-guard by how it went down. That's most of her issue, I think—she hasn't figured out how to prioritize yet as a cop. Gets distracted by other details, which is how she let that collar get away in the first place."

"I still can't believe how you found the guy—the whole thing's priceless. You know, little miss IA is lucky she's in bed with them because otherwise she'd probably be investigated over losing a collar like that."

"She's lucky I made her keep looking," Jamie corrected. "Or as her TO I would've _made sure_ she got in trouble."

"You like being a TO again? Have you missed it since I came off probation?"

He shrugged again. "Some, maybe. Mostly I forgot how much it sucks to have to check over her shoulder on every single thing she does. I told you about the paperwork, right? Twice so far she's filled forms out completely wrong—forms she should definitely know how to use by now."

"Yeah, you said."

"So don't worry. Soon as this is all over I'm telling Sarge I want to be back with you. You're way easier to talk to—I'm getting sick of all these awkward, quiet tours."

Out of Jamie's line of sight, Eddie gave a little nod of satisfaction. "Well, I'm always up for drinks after tour when you need to vent about her."

"Not planning on any happy hours with Welch, then?"

"No way. Even if I could stand him, which I can't, his girlfriend has him on a short leash. Only lets him go out for drinks with other cops, without her, once or twice a week."

"Damn," Jamie said. "She sounds like a pain in the ass."

"They're made for each other."

Jamie laughed at that as they made their way into the bar, which wasn't very crowded yet. Eddie started a tab and they slid into opposite sides of a booth as they waited for their wings.

Eddie watched as Jamie dug for his phone and frowned at the screen. "Patimkin didn't fill out the car mileage right," he groaned. "Ugh. Only three more weeks of this. I'll make it. _We'll_ make it."

The dim light from the bulb hanging over the table softened the angles of Jamie's face, even as he clenched his jaw in frustration. For some reason it caught Eddie off guard—probably because she'd hardly seen his face in a week after years of spending more time with him than anybody else. When he met her gaze it sent a little jolt of energy through her chest even though she'd long since trained herself to control that reaction.

She forced it away with a long sip of beer. "Yeah, you'll make it, and then it'll be back to Welch to put up with her."

"I definitely realize I've been taking you for granted after riding with her all week," Jamie continued. "It's hard to be a good cop when you're constantly worried about your partner screwing up. And I never have to worry about you being able to do your job."

"Of course not. I know what I'm doing. Always have."

Jamie smirked at her confidence, arching an eyebrow. "Maybe not _always_. It took you a couple weeks to figure out how to translate academy training onto the streets."

"A couple weeks? More like half a tour. My first night on the job wasn't exactly a picnic."

"True," Jamie conceded. "Patimkin's just not quite there yet. She'll get there eventually but I don't want to be the one to hold her hand. Like I said, I'm back in the car with you the second this whole punishment BS is over."

"We'll have a slogan," Eddie said. "Make patrol great again."

Jamie chuckled. "Besides the food thing—is Welch really that bad?"

Eddie's face scrunched noncommittally. "Let's just say if this arrangement was going to be any longer than this month, I'd be finding myself a rabbi and getting my ass off patrol real quick."

"And leave me behind to be stuck with Patimkin forever? Harsh."

"You wouldn't have to be stuck with her. You could finally go for a promotion yourself. You could be Sergeant Reagan."

"But patrol is what I love," Jamie said.

Eddie narrowed her eyes at him over the rim of her glass as she downed the rest of her drink. "Quit kidding yourself, Jamie. You're _miserable_ riding with someone else. _I'm_ what makes patrol great." Her tone was light and flippant but she watched him carefully for his reaction, wondering if he picked up on the undertones.

"Part of it," he finally admitted. "It's never boring, sitting in the car with you every day."

"Part of it? _Most_ of it."

"Oh-ho, now who's getting a big head?"

She grinned and slid out of the booth to grab them another round. She'd missed this, their harmless teasing, the effortless conversation—more than she wanted to let herself admit.

By the time she got back, another cop had taken her place across from Jamie. Jamie scooted to make room for her on his side and the three of them chatted for a minute as the newcomer asked if it was true that Jamie's new partner was an IA mole. But soon the guy's partner came over to talk him into a game of pool, leaving Eddie and Jamie alone again as their food came. They ate in comfortable silence as Eddie polished off two wings for each one Jamie had until the large basket in front of them was empty.

"And here you said you were going to make up for lost time and not _one_ comment so far," Eddie teased. She jutted her chin at the piles of bones in front of them as she licked the sauce off her fingers.

Jamie turned his head to meet her eyes as mischief sparkled in his own. "Figured I'd be nice tonight, give you a break since you're buying."

"Noble," Eddie remarked. She clapped her hand down on his thigh a couple times before using him as leverage to push herself out of the booth. "You want another?"

"Sure, one more."

She returned a minute later with two more pints, returning to her seat across the table even though she was tempted to slide back in next to him. "Your partner's here," she announced. "Over at the bar."

"Oh, God, hide me," Jamie said, shrinking hilariously into the corner of his bench. He kicked Eddie's leg as he moved and she kicked him back, harder, as she laughed.

"She can't see you," Eddie promised. "But if she does you can tell her she's gotta go back and fix the car log."

"Ugh, I forgot about the car log," Jamie groaned. "Remind me to fix it tomorrow before roll call."

Eddie balled up a napkin, one of the cleaner ones left on the table, and tossed it at his face. "Hey Jamie. Fix the car log tomorrow before roll call."

He managed to catch the ball as it ricocheted down to his chest and throw it back at her. "Thanks, smartass."

She caught it in midair with her elbow planted on the table and smirked as she got ready to peg him again. He reached across to grasp her forearm but her wrist was free enough to flex and she hit him again anyway.

"Okay, okay," he laughed, retrieving the napkin ball and adding it to the trash piled into the wings basket. But he didn't let go of her arm.

Before she thought to stop herself Eddie slid back in his grip until their fingers interlaced. They both sat quietly for a moment, just looking at their joined hands, until Eddie quietly spoke. "You know, we're not partners anymore."

"Yeah," he said, and his throat bobbed with a hard swallow. "But we will be again in three weeks."

She sighed and dropped her forehead into her free hand. "This is always how it's going to be, isn't it?" she said to the tabletop. "There'll always be some excuse."

Jamie's hand slid under her face, palm flat, and he lifted his fingers to tap the table a couple of times. She looked back up at him. "Come on, I'm not the only one who hates this partner switch. Knowing what it would be like to give it up—you'd be willing to do that for good? Never ride with each other again?"

She pursed her lips and let a long exhale out of her nose, remembering their conversation as they danced after that disaster of a wedding—how he'd used the same wording. "We already had to give it up," she said. "Right now we don't have _either_ thing, work or—or outside of work."

He sighed and untangled their fingers, leaving her hand resting on the table in front of him. "It's just temporary," he said. "Everything will be back to normal in a few weeks and until then—we're still hanging out."

Eddie wanted to tell him how hard this was, being in public with him out of uniform without the memory of the day's tour together to remind her of the boundaries they'd set. It was one thing to transfer straight from their radio car to drinks and darts and hanging out; it was easier that way to keep the professional firewall in place. But today, _this_ —this felt more like two people just hanging out, blowing off steam, telling each other about their days since they weren't there to witness each other's. They felt like actual _friends_ —which they were, of course, but for once their partnership wasn't at the forefront of their entire interaction with each other.

But she didn't. She hated him for it a little, but she knew he was right. She missed him _now_ , his partnership and all their afterhours time together, but the separation would be over soon. Someday, maybe, some external power would end their partnership for good—a promotion, a transfer, a decision from their CO, or God forbid an injury—and maybe then Jamie would finally let his damn guard down. But three beers and a temporary partner switch obviously weren't enough to make that happen.

"I hate this," she finally managed.

"Three more weeks," he said again.

That wasn't what she meant, and she knew he knew that. But she let it go. "I'm gonna head out," she announced just before chugging the last half of her beer. She fished through her purse and smacked a handful of bills in front of Jamie. "My treat. I'll see you tomorrow."

He lifted his eyebrows as she slid out of the booth. "Your treat but you're still making me pay?"

"I'll take that back," she threatened, a finger extended toward him in warning.

"Okay, okay." His hands came up to either side of his head in defeat, framing one last lopsided smile. "See you tomorrow."

She pulled her jacket on and adjusted the fabric around her, feeling his eyes boring into her. She patted a hand against the edge of the table twice, a farewell, before stepping off toward the door.

"Just three more weeks," Jamie said to her back.

She stopped and turned to see him leaning out of the booth. Meeting his eyes, she nodded once. "Three more weeks." And she set her shoulders and walked out of the bar.


End file.
